


Only One

by notionally



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, everyone is sleeping with everyone, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 09:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18221300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notionally/pseuds/notionally
Summary: It's not a secret that Taeyong and Yuta sometimes — often — hook up. Almost all of the members do it, in various combinations. Jaehyun and Johnny. Doyoung and Jaehyun. Mark and Donghyuck. Johnny and Ten. The list goes on.But Taeyong's only ever been with Yuta.Or: It seems like everyone in the group is sleeping with everyone else these days, but Yuta is the only one Taeyong wants. And he can't stop wondering if Yuta feels the same way about him.





	Only One

**Author's Note:**

> I am barely in the nct fandom but I am falling fast and hard, and yutae have got me by the dingly danglies. wrote this in the space of one evening and tidied it up the following morning so it's just self-indulgent nonsense, but I hope you enjoy!

 

 

It's not a secret that Taeyong and Yuta sometimes — often — hook up. Almost all of the members do it, in various combinations. Jaehyun and Johnny. Doyoung and Jaehyun. Mark and Donghyuck. Johnny and Ten. The list goes on.

But Taeyong's only ever been with Yuta.

He's not sure why, really.

It's easy, for sure, being with Yuta. Taeyong doesn't have to think too hard about it. They're friends, and maybe sometimes, after a particularly exhausting session in the dance studio, it's nice to fall into a pair of familiar arms. To feel a familiar pair of lips on his own, a familiar pair of hands sliding up the bare skin of his back.

There have been moments when he's been tempted, found himself way too close to Johnny or getting a little more handsy with Jaehyun than can be classified as strictly platonic. But something always stops him.

That _something_ is named Nakamoto Yuta.

Taeyong doesn't know if it's the same with Yuta, if Yuta has slept with any of the other members or if it's just him. He hopes it's just him — he wants to be special, to be Yuta's _only one._ But that's not the deal. They're not exclusive, none of them are. They're just close friends who help each other out.

Besides, Yuta is a bird that can't be tied down. He slots in with any of the other members so easily — hands on Sicheng's thigh or head resting on Doyoung’s shoulder or giggles shared with Jaehyun. His laughter rings out like bells and it makes Taeyong's world light up.

The more Taeyong thinks about it, though, the more he winds himself up with wondering. He hates himself for it. It makes him feel needy, clingy — in a way he's been told he can get in the past. He's young, but not too young to have had his heart broken by boys he'd thought he loved, but who had all found him too much, in the end.

Whatever this is Taeyong has with Yuta, he's determined not to ruin it by being _too much._

And yet — he can't help himself.

It's past midnight and Taeyong's in one of the smaller recording studios, shoved up against the wall with Yuta's lips crashing into his and Yuta's hips grinding against him and Yuta's hands raking through his hair, sliding down his sides, digging into his waist. Everything is Yuta — as it has always been, as it will always be.

“Yuta,” Taeyong gasps out, as teeth dig into the skin in the crook of his neck. Desire jolts through his core. His head falls back, stars swimming in his vision. _Yuta, Yuta, Yuta._

“Yong-ah,” comes the murmured response. “You feel so good.”

Taeyong drags his hands down Yuta's back, underneath his t-shirt, relishing in the way his nails scrape the skin. He rocks his hips upwards, pressing his thigh into the hard outline of Yuta's erection in his jeans.

“The best?” Taeyong hears himself asking, voice pitched and breathy. “Better than anyone else?”

Yuta hums contentedly, angling his head to nip at Taeyong's earlobe and whisper in his ear, “Better than anyone else.”

And then he leans in and kisses Taeyong, hard and full of need, just the way Taeyong likes it — loves it, he fucking _loves it_ — but suddenly Taeyong's mind is elsewhere, his head swimming, heart thumping in his chest, and not because of the way Yuta's hands have slipped down to grab his ass.

Taeyong breaks the kiss, turns his head to the side. “Better than who?” he asks. Because he's a lovesick fool who can't stop himself from stepping directly onto a landmine that he knows perfectly well is waiting beneath his feet.

Yuta cocks his head. His eyes are wide with confusion. “What?”

Taeyong's veins run ice cold. “You — you said I was better than anyone else,” he mumbles, looking down. “Who else?”

“I don't know — that was just, it's a figure of speech,” Yuta says, forcing a laugh. He looks at Taeyong, then looks away again. Pushes his fringe out of his face. He grins, that perfect, utterly brilliant smile that makes Taeyong weak. “Lee Taeyong,” he says, voice teasing, “are you really asking for a full rundown of my sexual history right now?”

“No,” replies Taeyong. He trails his long fingers up and down Yuta's arms. Every fibre of his being is screaming for him to stop, but he can't, it feels like he's watching himself from afar. “I just mean, like — right now.”

Yuta raises an eyebrow, leans away from Taeyong. “I wasn't aware that there was anyone else in the room with us.”

Taeyong shoots him a look of mild annoyance. “You know what I mean.”

“What I don't understand,” replies Yuta, a little tightly, “is why you're asking me this now.”

“It just popped into my head.” That's a lie, but Yuta doesn't need to know that. There's a lump in Taeyong's chest that makes it difficult to breathe. “It's no big deal, everyone in the group's sleeping with everyone. I was just curious.”

Yuta narrows his eyes at Taeyong. “Everyone?” he asks. Steps back, hands falling away from Taeyong's waist and to his sides. The distance between them gapes open as Yuta levels Taeyong with an inscrutable gaze. “Are _you_ sleeping with everyone too?”

Taeyong shrugs, brushes his bangs out of his eyes self-consciously. “Not _everyone,”_ he demurs. He can't possibly say he's only been with Yuta. That's too fucking pathetic.

“Who, then?” Yuta asks. His voice is sharp, in a way Taeyong is neither used to, nor does he appreciate.

Taeyong pouts at Yuta. “You tell me,” he grumbles. “I asked first.”

“I’m not telling you which of our group members I'm having sex with,” snaps Yuta.

Taeyong folds his arms in front of his chest. “Fine,” he returns. “I don't care, anyway.”

“Me neither.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They both glare at each other for a long, tense moment. Taeyong can hear the blood rushing through his ears, deafening in the silence that stretches out between him and Yuta. There's a vice on his chest, it digs into him and it hurts, oh how it hurts. Taeyong can feel the hot prickle of tears in building in the back of his eyes.

“Whatever,” says Yuta, finally. He runs both of his hands through his hair, turns away from Taeyong. “I'm going home.”

When the door slams shut behind Yuta, all Taeyong has left is himself, his tears, and the empty room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What's going on with you and Yuta?”

Taeyong doesn't look up, just continues shoveling rice into his face, shoulders hunched over the dining table. “Nothing's going on with me and Yuta,” he says glumly. That's the whole problem. Taeyong had gone and opened his stupid mouth, and now it's been two whole weeks and Yuta has barely spoken a word to him.

Johnny kicks Taeyong under the table, which earns him a scowl. But Johnny looks unrepentant. “Something's going on,” he says, firmly. “You guys are usually all over each other, but I don't think he's so much as _looked_ at you for over a week.”

“Thank you for pointing that out,” grumbles Taeyong. “I hadn't noticed.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Don't get all sarcastic with me,” he replies, but he doesn't sound angry. Just soft and gentle and caring, the way Johnny always is. “I just want to help.”

Taeyong sighs heavily, rubs one hand over his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly. “I'm just stressed out.”

“Because of Yuta?”

Taeyong grimaces, but nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess.”

Johnny props his elbows on the table, sinks his chin into his hands. “What did you do?”

“Why do you think I was the one who did something?”

“Because you have your ‘feeling sorry for yourself’ face on, not your ‘feeling self-righteously gloomy’ face on.”

Taeyong swats at Johnny. “You're not cheering me up,” he whines.

Johnny chuckles as he dodges Taeyong's slaps. “Not trying to,” he replies. “Trying to help you and Yuta fix things so you can go back to ripping each other's clothes off instead of moping around all day bringing the mood down.”

Heat flushes Taeyong's cheeks. “Shut up,” he grumbles.

Johnny does not shut up. “The problem with sad Yuta is that he ends up hanging around Jae all the time, which is a real problem for me, because it severely restricts my ability to have sex with Jae,” he continues, blabbering on. Taeyong scrunches up his face in displeasure, but it does nothing to deter Johnny. “It might not even be that much of a problem if Yuta was willing to get involved, like Ten does sometimes, but the idiot only has eyes for you, so that rules a threesome out—”

Taeyong had been trying to block Johnny out, but his ears suddenly perk up. “John—Johnny, hey, shut up for a second.”

Johnny breaks off mid-sentence. “What?”

“What did you say just now? About Yuta — only having eyes for me?”

A slow, sly smirk spreads across Johnny's face. “Oh, now you're interested, are you?” he teases.

Taeyong scowls, but he needs information from Johnny so he doesn't rise to the bait. “What do you mean, Yuta only has eyes for me?”

“I mean, Yuta's so fucking besotted with you that he won't even _look_ at anyone else,” Johnny says. “Not even me and Jae! Have you _seen_ me and Jae? We're like, handsome, or something.”

Most of the time, Taeyong loves Johnny's weirdness and his lazy, rambly way of speaking, but not right now. Right now he feels like he's on the precipice of something that Johnny is dangling just out of his reach.

“Are you saying you guys haven't slept with Yuta?” Taeyong presses. “Not even like — individually?”

Johnny cocks his head at Taeyong. “No, not even individually,” he says. “Why are you so hung up on this?”

Taeyong ignores his question. “What about, like — what about Sicheng? Doyoung? Uh, Taeil hyung?”

“What are you going on about?” Johnny asks. He looks genuinely bewildered, and kind of concerned. “Yuta literally only sleeps with you, you know this.”

Taeyong just blinks at Johnny. Wait, what?

“Oh my god, you _don't_ know this,” Johnny exhales, realisation dawning. “I can't believe this comes as some sort of surprise to you. Yuta looks at you like you hung the fucking moon, Yong. Are you an idiot?”

“I — I asked him who else he was sleeping with,” stammers Taeyong. The words start tumbling out of him as the weight of how much of a fool he's been comes crashing down on him. “And then he asked me, and I, like — I don't mess around with anyone else, but I didn't want him to know that, so I kind of — I heavily implied that I was sleeping with other people, and then he stormed out and now he hasn't spoken to me since—”

“Wow, you really are an idiot,” pipes up Johnny. “That certainly explains why Yuta's been looking like a puppy that's been kicked in the face. You _literally_ kicked him in the face, except metaphorically, in his heart.”

Taeyong pulls a face. “That made no sense,” he says, already pushing himself to his feet. “Where's Yuta? I need to talk to him.”

“Dance studio, I believe,” Johnny calls out. Waves cheerily as Taeyong snatches his jacket off the coat hook and struggles into it while simultaneously trying to get the front door open. “Good luck, Yongie! Use protection!”

Taeyong ignores him, just dashes out of their dorm. The door slams shut behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Taeyong bursts into the dance studio unceremoniously, sweaty from having sprinted through the building in search of Yuta. He leans his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“Hyung, what the heck?” comes Mark's bewildered voice. Taeyong peers up to see everyone staring at him in confusion. It's an unexpected group of members, but that's the way they are, the way their concept has made them. An odd mish-mash of personalities. Taeyong can’t complain. It’s what’s brought him to Yuta, after all.

Speaking of Yuta. He's standing at the back of the group, frowning.

“I need to speak to Yuta,” Taeyong heaves out. He straightens up, pushes his hair out of his face. “Uh — Yuta, do you have a moment?”

Yuta narrows his eyes, catlike and wary. “We're practicing,” he says, flatly.

Donghyuck glances from Taeyong, to Yuta, then back again. “We were going to take a break, anyway,” he interrupts. Shoots Mark a look.

It takes Mark a second, but he gets it. “Yes,” he agrees heartily. “A break. It's time for a break.”

Yuta glares at the two younger members. “No, it's not,” he argues.

“I think it's a good time for a break,” pipes up Taeil. He raises his eyebrows at Yuta. “You should go talk to Taeyong.”

Mark and Donghyuck drag Yuta across the room and shove him in front of Taeyong. “Go talk things through, hyungs,” they chorus earnestly, beaming and waving as Taeyong leads Yuta out of the room.

He rounds the corner, opens the first door he sees, and as luck would have it — it's the same room they'd been in when Taeyong had gone and fucked everything up. Except it's not really luck, because they had ended up in that room in the first place after stumbling down the hallway from dance practice. But Taeyong likes to think that it's fate, giving him a second chance.

“Yong, what do you want?” Yuta asks. He sounds tired, but he used Taeyong's nickname, so there's hope there — right?

“I'm sorry,” Taeyong blurts out, then grimaces. He'd meant to do it more smoothly than that. “I mean — I know I shouldn't have pried into your personal life. And I'm sorry.”

Yuta takes a long inhale, then sighs heavily. “I'm not mad at you for being curious,” he says, quietly. “I was just — I don't know. Upset that you had to ask.”

Taeyong frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I don't — can we not talk about this?” Yuta presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “It's fine, I'm sorry that I've been avoiding you, I've just needed to sort my feelings out, but it will all be _fine.”_

“No, it's not fine — I've upset you,” Taeyong mumbles. Guilt twists in his gut. He steps closer to Yuta, hesitantly places one hand on his shoulder. Even now, even despite everything, being close to Yuta still makes his heart flip with longing. “Tell me how to fix things, please.”

Yuta drops his hands from his face. He's still not looking directly at Taeyong, but something seems to soften in his eyes. “Why — why did you ask me who else there was?” he mumbles.

Taeyong considers this for a moment. Why _did_ he ask? “I asked because I wanted to know,” he says, and it’s the truth. “Even though I was afraid of the answer.”

Yuta looks slowly up at Taeyong, his face open with trust. “What were you afraid of?”

And this is it. Taeyong’s tired of lying, of pretending that he doesn’t feel a special way towards Yuta. Maybe there’s something to be said for the truth, after all.

“I was afraid there would be other people,” he says softly. “Because I want to be your only one.”

Something flickers in Yuta's eyes. He stares at Taeyong. Then — “You _are_ my only one,” he breathes. “I thought you knew that.”

Taeyong shakes his head. “You're so bright like the sun,” he says, “I thought for sure you couldn't be satisfied with just — me. Boring old me.”

“Are you kidding?” Yuta exclaims, his eyes widening in shock. “You're _Lee Taeyong,”_ he breathes out, his lips forming Taeyong’s name like a prayer, in a way that Taeyong doesn’t feel like he deserves. “Literally everyone who meets you falls in love with you — I can't even believe you want anything to do with me.”

Everything spins in Taeyong's mind. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, his stomach twists with hope that he doesn't dare to really let himself entertain. Not yet. “I want everything to do with you,” he manages to fumble out. “You. Just you. Only you.”

Yuta blinks up at him. “What?”

“You, Nakamoto Yuta,” Taeyong says firmly. His heart swells with affection. It's starting to sink in. This is fine. It's all going to be fine. “It's just you. There's no one else. You're the only one.”

“Shut up,” Yuta says abruptly. A smile crosses his face, slowly, hesitantly. “You better mean that.”

Taeyong brushes Yuta's fringe away from his forehead. “I mean it, stupid,” he murmurs.

Yuta grins. “You're the stupid one,” he shoots back. Then, he grabs Taeyong by the back of his neck, drags him close. When their lips crash together, all Taeyong feels at first is blinding relief. This is safe, it's where everything is familiar and comforting and Taeyong can breathe easy again.

And then Yuta catches Taeyong's lower lip between his teeth, and all of that dissipates in an instant, replaced with the hungry tug of desire. Taeyong groans into Yuta's mouth, stumbles into him, presses him against the wall. His hands slides down Yuta's body, fingers hooking into his belt loops to pull them closer together.

“Fuck,” hisses Yuta, as Taeyong dips his head to suck on the sensitive skin along his neck. Yuta exhales shakily, fingers carding through Taeyong's hair. “Taeyongie,” he groans, “missed this. Missed _you.”_

Taeyong can feel himself smiling even as he drags his tongue across Yuta's collarbone. He peppers kisses along Yuta's jawline, humming happily. Yuta makes a whining noise in the back of his throat, nudges Taeyong back up to kiss him.

The way Yuta kisses is so hungry, so desperate, in a way that makes Taeyong feel drunk. He moans as Yuta tongues his way into his mouth, so hot and wet and yet somehow still frustratingly _not enough_

Maybe Yuta senses Taeyong's need, or maybe they're both equally into each other, because suddenly there's a hand sliding down Taeyong's stomach, slipping in between them and palming at Taeyong's dick through his jeans.

“Yuta,” Taeyong exhales sharply, breaking the kiss in surprise. He rocks his hips against Yuta's hand, desperate for some friction. “Fuck, oh my god.”

A frustrated growl rumbles out from Yuta’s throat, and his free hand slides under Taeyong’s shirt, running along Taeyong’s spine and across his shoulder blades. The hand on Taeyong’s dick starts fumbling with the button of his jeans, and it’s all so chaotic and grabby and needy in the way that Yuta always is. It makes Taeyong feel hazy with want, with the heady thrill of being _desired._

Taeyong whimpers as Yuta leans down and digs his teeth into Taeyong’s neck, pain and pleasure rocketing through his body. He drops his own to Yuta’s belt buckle, fingers shaking as he struggles futilely to get it undone. “Yuta,” he whines, dragging out the last syllable. “Can’t — your belt —”

“So impatient, Taeyongie,” Yuta teases. He’s somehow managed to get Taeyong’s fly undone, has one hand shoved down Taeyong’s jeans, fingers wrapping around Taeyong’s dick. He feels warm, and when he pumps his fist, once, then twice, Taeyong sees stars. He groans, tipping forward into Yuta’s arms, head nestled into the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. There are no words for how he feels — how Yuta makes him feel — so he just does his best baby boy whine. It draws a bright, tinkling laugh from Yuta, and Taeyong thinks, vaguely, through the fog of arousal clouding his brain, that Yuta’s laugh is his favourite sound in the whole world.

Conversely, his least favourite sound has to be the loud banging of fist against wood coming from the door to the room they’re in. Taeyong jerks away from Yuta, who pouts and reluctantly releases his grip on Taeyong’s dick.

“Who is it?” Taeyong calls out, voice still shaky. He clears his throat, does his fly up and smoothes his hair down. They hadn’t locked the door, which was frankly foolish of them. The fact that whoever it was had bothered to knock instead of just barging in suggests that it’s one of their members, thankfully.

“It’s me,” comes Doyoung’s sharp voice. “We know you’re in there, you’re not being very subtle about it. Or _quiet.”_

Taeyong can feel the pink rushing up from his neck to his cheeks. Yuta just grins proudly, walks over to the door and throws it open without even bothering to straighten his t-shirt or comb down his hair.

“Hello,” he greets cheerily. “What’s up?”

Outside, Doyoung glances at the both of them, and grimaces. Mark and Donghyuck are huddled behind him, giggling to themselves. Taeyong presses his hands to his cheeks, trying to hide the embarrassed flush of his skin.

“We have a meeting about this new show we’re doing, which I’m guessing you’ve forgotten about,” Doyoung says. He casts Mark and Donghyuck a withering backwards glance. “The children were too embarrassed to interrupt what I can only assume is the two of you making up after your lovers’ tiff.”

Yuta doesn’t even look the slightest bit abashed. He turns and beams at Taeyong. “You can call it that,” he declares. Reaches out one hand and beckons for Taeyong to take it. “Let’s go, then!”

Taeyong wants to roll his eyes at how cheesy Yuta is being, but he can’t even bring himself to muster up the slightest bit of a glare. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but he just ducks his head down to hide the silly smile that he knows is plastered across his face, and darts forward to slip his hand into Yuta’s.

Donghyuck cackles at them as they hurry down the corridor after Doyoung. “What about me, Yuta hyung?” he complains, skipping up alongside Yuta and Taeyong. “Are you not going to hold _my_ hand?”

Yuta just cocks his head to the side, eyes sparkling as he glances at Taeyong.

“Nope,” he says, firmly. “Just Taeyongie’s. Only Taeyong.”

Taeyong beams. That’s just the way he likes it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos/comments if you liked it! this was just me dipping my toe into nct ficdom but I feel like I'm being dragged in so maybe I will write more, idk. you can come talk to me @notionxally on twitter or cc


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